


Atrophy

by sweetlikesugar



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Bugs & Insects, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Gen, Minor Violence, Relapsing, Smoking, drug relapse, mild body horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:27:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23465386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetlikesugar/pseuds/sweetlikesugar
Summary: He missed it. The gentle drifting in and out of consciousness, the all-encompassing silence. For once his head is void of the angry buzzing of hornets bashing against his skull. There’s nothing but silence. His mind is quiet and sticky. Empty.
Relationships: Aaron Minyard & Andrew Minyard, Kevin Day & Aaron Minyard, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, Nicky Hemmick & Aaron Minyard
Comments: 12
Kudos: 63





	Atrophy

**Author's Note:**

> there are some p detailed descriptions of insects in the mouth so please be mindful of that

Aaron has never been religious, but now he wholeheartedly believed he was in hell. He’s been tossing and turning the whole night, hoping to squash the anxiety racing over his spine in a lighting quick pitter-patter of spider legs raising goosebumps all over his skin. He locks his jaw, grinding his teeth for the slightest hint of relief as maggots squirm and writhe in his mouth, digging tunnels in his gums around roots of his teeth, making them itch deeply.

He can’t do it. God, he really can’t fucking do it.

He knows what he needs.

* * *

  
  


It’s easy to get what he needs. Money changes hands in a slap of a high five and a tracksuit wearing frat dude looks at his shaky hands and whistles.

“You’re really going through it, huh?”.

Aaron grins, all danger, and feels centipedes crawl through spaces between his teeth.

“You know where to find me if you need more” the frat dude turns around and leaves.

* * *

  
  


Aaron is not an idiot. He’s pre-med. He knows enough about adjusting doses, tolerance, and overdose, both from books and from life. So he knows his tolerance is shot to shit. He’s been clean for a long time, way too long to have the slightest threshold. So when he locks himself in the bedroom, out of the two pills in the ziplock baggie he takes one and breaks it in half. Fuck knows if it’s laced. 

It hits quickly. Too quickly to be pure, but he didn’t expect much from a campus dealer anyway. He can almost feel his pulse slowing down as the syrupy sludge of oxycodone trickles into his veins.

God, he’s missed this so much.

He sinks into the bed with a content sigh, eyes lidded and corners of his mouth tugged slightly up. It feels good, like a hot shower after a grueling practice, like waking up late, sun-warmed and stained with sleep-blush. He sneaks one hand under his shirt to rest it on his ribs, feeling them rise and fall sluggishly, warm skin stretching around his ribs.

He missed it. The gentle drifting in and out of consciousness, the all-encompassing silence. For once his head is void of the angry buzzing of hornets bashing against his skull. There’s nothing but silence. His mind is quiet and sticky. Empty.

He dozes until a riot behind the door tugs him into deeper into awareness.

“Why is the door fucking locked?” someone complains, rattling the doorknob.

It hits him then that he’s probably supposed to do something, but through the opioid haze smoothing over his skin like silk and feathers he can’t be bothered to do anything other than lay there, his thumb absently swiping back and forth over the jut of his rib.

“Just pick up the lock and stop complaining” another voice scoffs. The lock clicks and the door swings open.

A moment of silence stretches, as Aaron lolls his head to face the door but doesn’t give any other indication of lucidity.

“What the fuck?” Kevin murmurs, stepping into the room warily with three other people hot on his heels.

“Fuck, Aaron” Nicky murmurs sympathetically.

Aaron shifts his gaze, aimlessly wandering from face to face until Andrew steps forward and forces Aaron’s attention onto himself.

“His pupils are blown to shit” Josten pipes up blandly, curiously, and looks over the room until he spies a ziplock baggie on the nightstand. 

“How much did you take?” Andrew hisses, stepping closer to Aaron’s bed, looming over him.

“Didn’ o’rdose” Aaron slurs, grinning nastily, drugs dampening any uneasiness that would’ve kicked in with Andrew towering over him like an executioner. There are no centipedes crawling through that smile.

“Not what I asked”.

Aaron shrugs, pushing himself to sit up. “‘S all you gon’ get”.

“Should we get him to the hospital?” Nicky wonders, watching Aaron’s breathing slow down considerably as he slips out of consciousness again.

“He didn’t take that much” Josten shakes a baggy that still has one pill left. 

Aaron tips forward and Nicky scrambles to catch him before he falls off the bed.

“He’s really out of it” Kevin murmurs, watching Nicky press two fingers to Aaron’s neck, counting heartbeats. 

“He said he didn’t overdose” Josten shrugs, “maybe he just needs to ride it out”.

Andrew watches Aaron straighten back up, eyes open as much as he can, now breathing again. 

“Call Abby” he snatches the zip lock baggy out of Josten’s hand. “Then we’ll see”.

* * *

  
  


In the end, all they can do is let him ride it out, with Abby insisting to move him to the infirmary.

Andrew and Nicky refuse to leave on the grounds of being family, Kevin plants himself firmly against the wall, arms crossed, and Josten stays because Andrew stays.

There’s not much to see as Aaron rides the high, scarily still save for minute twitch of his hands. Abby monitors his breathing carefully, nudging him when it becomes too close to a stop.

It’s the comedown that’s ghastly.

Nicky hasn’t seen Aaron come down too often when he was still using regularly, save for the bathroom incident. Now it’s painful.

After the last of his shaking subsides, Aaron looks at his entourage, eyes bright, and glowers.

“Get the fuck out” he rasps, batting Abby away when she tries to help him sit up. 

“Was it worth it?” Andrew raises an eyebrow, not a shred of compassion in his eyes. 

Aaron snarls. “Yes. Fuck you”.

He looks at Kevin and Josten. “Out. All of you. You especially” he spits at Josten.

Abby ushers all of them out the door. 

Andrew and Aaron glare at each other until the door closes.

* * *

  
  


Aaron watches the clock in Bee’s office. It’s always slow, but today it seems hell-bent on making Aaron age fifty years in five minutes.

“Is there anything you want to talk about today?” Bee inquires softly, placing a steaming mug of tea in front of Aaron. It will go cold by the end of the session and not a sip will be missing.

Aaron raises an eyebrow. He knows what she wants him to talk about.

“Have you ever learned any techniques to deal with your cravings?”.

Aaron watches steam swirl and disappear in the air.

The tea goes cold. His hands do too.

* * *

The tracksuit wearing frat guy gets knifed. It’s a fairly loud affair.

Aaron sighs through his nose and goes back to his anaesthesiology notes.

* * *

There are spiders skittering up and down his spine to the rhythm of his anxiety, a violent buzz of angry hornets in his head, centipedes crawling between his teeth. The undulating mass of maggots in his throat makes it hard to breathe.

He rubs his freezing hands, curling and fanning out his fingers. They won’t get any more blood flow past the first knuckle, but at least he tried.

He taps his nail on his teeth, the feedback sending the centipedes scampering away, the itch in his gums becoming so intense he grinds his teeth together to override it as they dig their little legs in the inflamed flesh.

The spider at the top of his spine darts down and Aaron squares his shoulders and his hand twitches, attempting to bat it off.

He storms out of the bed, throws on a hoodie and slips into untied sneakers and wanders to one of the balconies, throwing his arms over the rail and pressing his forehead to the rusty pipe between his elbows. 

He tries to breathe through the sudden spike in his pulse, unwillingly trying the breathing exercises Bee was talking at him last session, but no amount of breathing can rid him of the discomfort of ants in his mouth, digging their little mouths around his teeth, tearing the flesh off and apart.

He knows what he wants. He also knows he can’t have it again. Not after having to endure Andrew’s intense attention in a way he didn’t have to since Josten appeared. Not after Nicky keeps looking at his hands, always cold with fingertips bruised blue, with emotions Aaron doesn’t care to decipher. 

He still needs something, though.

He goes back to the dorm and snatches a pack of cigarettes abandoned on the kitchen counter. He figures whoever left them wasn’t attached to them.

Nicotine doesn’t give him the serenity he craves, but it puts ants in his mouth to sleep with its bitter taste and it’s a good compromise.

He watches Kevin stumble out to the balcony, with a glass of something, and smirks. He takes a pull of the cigarette and pretends it gives him what he needs.

Kevin stares at him, clearly not aware enough to start a conversation, but it’s all the better for Aaron. 

He turns his back to Kevin and flicks the butt over the railing and watches it flutter to the ground. His mouth is full of bitter saliva, but it’s empty of insects digging tunnels through the soft tissue of his palate for now. 

He takes a step back and slides down the wall until he hits the cold filthy tile, and lights up another one. His hands shake after he inhales the smoke deeply, the flood of dopamine overwhelming his system. Not good enough, but it’ll do.

He goes back inside to rinse out the worst of the bitter taste. 

The spider climbs leisurely back up his spine. 

He spits back and runs his tongue over his teeth, digging it in the spaces between. 

He drums his nails against his front teeth.

The lonely centipede scrams back and burrows itself into the soft tissue beneath his tongue.

He knows what he needs.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> someone said they want to see aaron relapsing and i'm eager to please, bored, and feeling a bit mean. if you liked leave kudos and comments and i'm always down to gossip on [ tumblr](https://mindlesslittlefreak.tumblr.com) or [ twitter](https://twitter.com/raccoon_dad)


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